His Wildmage: Interlude
by WantonChef
Summary: He loves his wildmage. Continuation of Daine and Numaire's love affair after The Realms of the Gods, bittersweet. Reviews jubilantly accepted! :P
1. Fall

Daine loved Master Salmalín. It was that simple, repeated over and over in a möbius strip of emotion and words, filling every crevasse of the empty room. She reread his letter to the Lioness, the one in which he established that he would be teaching her privately over spring break. The one in which he referred to her as intelligent and mature, the one she probably shouldn't have kept even after Alanna gave it to her to clarify the nature of the lessons.

She was to take an additional course each of Mathematics, Biology, and Advanced Healing, the latter being a class specifically designed for her by Numair himself. Less than two months ago, Daine reflected, she and all the other mages and warriors in Tortall had been fighting for their lives and their country. Now she was most concerned with passing a class taught by the legendarily severe Master. She glanced at the letter in her hands, and those words stood out to her. _Intelligent_, and _mature_. Though she had to admit the evaluation pleased her, it just didn't seem like the sort of thing grown man in love would write. Recently, she didn't feel as if she knew Numair at all, and herself even less. Ever since his recovery from the battle with Inar Hadensra (and the proposal that followed), he had become distant. Actually, she blamed it more on herself than anything. At first, of course, he had been just as attentive as ever. But as various duties around the capital captured her attention, she began to spend less one-on-one time with her former companion. Soon whenever she saw him, a tightness would strike through her chest, and she would look away quickly. Without being in constant contact with him, she began to distrust even her own deepest feelings, or the fact that he had not just made his declarations in the heat of the moment. Eventually, Numaire learned to avoid meeting her eyes in public, and she made certain they were never alone together.

Tomorrow, however, her classes would begin in earnest and she would be forced to sit through hours of lessons, alone with those deep, coffee-colored eyes. A prospect which would have once thrilled her now served only to terrify.

Daine spent a good 25 minutes that just puzzling over what to wear, as well as extra time scrubbing her entire body, teeth, and hair. Eventually, dripping and pink, she pulled on a pair of soft, tight breeches, thigh-length riding boots, and a standard pale blue tunic. This, of course, she accompanied with the badger claw. A pair of mourning doves watched from the windowsill, obviously amused at her "preening."

"Oh, leave me alone!" They fluttered off, and she immediately regretted taking out her anxiety on them. She reached out for the pair through her wildmagic, and apologized, promising to place some additional bread crumbs outside for them the next morning.

At 7:15, Daine knocked gently on the door of Numair's study.

"You know you don't have to knock, Magelet!" That made her smile, but she tugged on her tunic again nervously before turning the knob. She only got a glance at the back of a precariously tilted chair before its occupant sprung to his feet and moved to hug her. As she was engulfed in the strong warmth of his chest, she began to relax her guard for the first time in weeks. When he moved to release her, she clung to his tunic.

"Daine, I..." her forehead rubbed the coarse hairs protruding from his low collar. She inhaled his warmth, and suddenly, impulsively, brought her lips to the strong hollow of his collarbone. She felt him tense, then tighten his grip on her shoulders. His forearms wrapped around her to bring their bodies closer, and then his big hands began to creep down her back. How could she ever have doubted their unique relationship? It was only now that thoughts began to flee her mind, and she released herself entirely to the man who held her heart in the palm of his hand.

Now she kissed his tanned neck, and she heard him moan gently. His hand began to move up her sides, creating a warm friction. As she brought her own hands up to rub his jawbone, his thigh pressed against her pelvis and she felt heat spread through her body. This was Numair, and he would always be more than merely a teacher, he would always be the one she wanted to share everything with, to share eternity with.

His next move took her by surprise, as he bent swiftly and brought his arms below her buttocks to carry her hastily across the study to the bed in the other room. She was slammed onto the soft mattress as her lips met his for the first time in too long. Warm and soft, a wisp of his dark hair mingled with one of her own brown curls. She grew warmer as they kissed more desperately, and brought a knee upwards to press against his crotch. Numair moaned again and quickly rolled them over so Daine knelt across his thighs. It was only now, in a brief moment of thought not clouded by desire, that she could fully take in the state of the room. The bed was unmade, not surprising, but it was littered with clothing and his traveling pack.

"Numair, where are you going?"

"Carthak, didn't Onua tell you?" His swarthy cheeks were flushed, his voice slightly higher than usual with surprise. Daine scrambled off him, a fear she thought she had quelled beginning to rise in her.

"No, she didn't! When where you planning on telling me?" Lovely, now she sounded like a nagging wife. And it didn't help that she felt a new heat behind her eyes. Numair must have noticed, because he immediately sat up on the bed.

"What's wrong, sweet? I've been planning this trip for at least a week,"

"Was that before, or after, you planned on instructing me in healing?" Now realization dawned, as he remembered belatedly the agreed-upon lessons.

"Oh, Daine, I'm so sorry." She could tell he was truly guilty, but that only made things worse.

"So I'm just your, what, your _lover_? Not an actual person to be taught or notified of changes in plans." Now tears came, unrationally she knew, but they began to leak from the corners of her eyes against all efforts to conceal them. Daine jumped to her feet, the passion of a moment before forgotten. Numair remained where he sat, bewildered and saddened by the recent changes in his young student. She rushed from the room before he saw her break down in earnest, and had slammed the door before he could raise himself from the bed. Numair Salmalín lay back, and closed his eyes. He would go after her and deal with this, of course, because he loved her. But for now he just wanted to remember her touch on his body, her kisses, her warmth...


	2. Winter

As she watched him ride away, Daine felt nothing but a numbness in her throat. As he road away, she could tell from the tension in his back that he knew she was watching him. But then again, perhaps that unnatural rigidity was due only to his dislike of riding on horseback. Perhaps he didn't care about her at all; perhaps any hope of a real relationship had been a fantasy on both their parts.

All of yesterday, and even once this morning, Numair had come to knock softly on her door. But she pretended to ignore him, she went for a walk with Tahoi, she buried her head under her pillow. And so this morning, he had ridden away from her without saying goodbye for the first time since she realized she loved him. For the first time since she realized she loved him, she had begun to understand how empty her life would be without the tall mage who she still followed with her eyes. He wore a dusty traveling cloak over his black robes, and his saddlebags bumped along in time with his own graceless figure. He was just about to pass out through the gate when he turned once in his saddle and looked up to where the Daine-hawk circled lazily above him.

"I love you, Magelet," he spoke quietly, but he knew the wind would carry his words to her. Then he rode away and the bird that was his true love was left, winging in deft circles against the brilliant autumn sun.

The next four weeks were the slowest of Daine's life. Twice, Alanna had been forced to assign her duties around the palace after the maids found her lying in bed for hours on end. She took Cloud out on long rides and helped Onua with some of her old duties in the stables, but still she could not help feeling that without Numair around her life was bland and colorless. More than anything, she spent time thinking about the two of them, and how things might change when he returned. In the mean time, she had mostly forgiven him for forgetting about the lessons. Mostly. There were still nights when she would lie in bed shaking with anger, only to wake up in the dark hours of the morning because she thought she felt him next to her. Those nights, her body ached for him and she would shove a pillow tightly between her thighs to stop the longing. Soon, she took to packing pillows tightly around herself before bed every night, or simply not lying down without having practiced in the training yards until her muscles shivered with fatigue. By the end of the month, she would have done anything just to have him back by her side.

Numair returned to Corus on a bright but cold November afternoon. Watching from her window since the early morning, Daine was surprised to feel her heart quicken when she saw the familiar figure riding up the long road to the palace. She stood and went to her small bed, which she lay on for a minute with her fists clenched. _I will not let him see me cry, I will not be angry with him, Gods, let him still love me_. She waited until she saw a stableboy take his horse (_poor animal!_) and then allowed herself to dash from the window and down the stone staircase until she saw him, there in the entrance hall, and she _did_ love him, she always had. Now she ran toward him, just wanting to be in his arms and -- something was wrong. He had caught her by the shoulders, and there was something wrong with his face.

"Numair! I missed you so much..." His face was as stern and cold as steel, and his voice when he spoke did not contain the usual calm warmth she was used to.

"Daine, we need to talk." It was only now that she realized he still held her at arm's length, that his back was ramrod straight and he would not meet her eyes. When he drew her into a closed room and told her that he did not love her anymore, it was this fact that she held onto, and when she finally made it to her room and allowed herself to sob in earnest, she realized that she had not once glimpsed his perfect coffee-brown eyes.

This was far worse than knowing that even though he was not nearby, wherever he was he loved her. Now she knew he was close to her and didn't even care, and it was killing her. Numbly she dressed for each day, numbly she did her duties around the capital, and numbly she assured those who asked that no, she wasn't sick, she just had a slight headache and would be back to normal soon enough.

The first time Daine saw him in a corridor and he did not acknowledge her, she barely made it back to her room before the tears came. But within a few months, she was used to the hurt of seeing him and not smiling, and could restrict herself to only the slightest of trembles when they were in a room together. Over the holidays, she visited with her parents in the divine realms. Though Sarra and Weiryn did not mention it, she knew they sensed something was wrong, and worried about her.

It was not until mid-March that Daine again spoke to her one-time teacher. She had just come from the training yards, and her lips were raw and chapped from the bitter wind. She barely registered the warmth of the castle, only stopping to irritably pull at her worn gloves. Deciding to beg a bowl of hot soup from the cooks, Daine made her way toward the kitchens. Concentrating on clenching her chilled hands, she did notice the two men climbing the staircase toward her until she bumped into one of them.

"Excuse me," she muttered absently, then looking up met a pair of deep, muddy eyes, set in a tanned face and framed by wisps of coal-black hair that had sprung loose from his horse-tail. "Oh!" Now she brought her eyes back to her feet as he brushed past without a word. It was only when she reached the bottom of the stairs that her blank hurt and surprise changed to anger. "Master Salmalín!"

The second man turned, but Numair only slowed his pace.

"A lady is addressing you, sir," obviously the other man was a courtier, his bland face unmatched by his brightly stylish clothing.

"I am only surprised, sir, that she has done so," replied Numair, equally as polite but far more coldly "as I had recently asked her not to." Then he turned sharply on his heel while his companion gaped after him, and Daine was left frozen at the bottom of the staircase.

"I loved you!" She shouted after his retreating back. "Numair Salmalín, I _loved_ you. But I always thought you were so much better than these Gods-damned pretty boys, I thought you were so much more. You said we'd always be together --!" Here she broke off and leaned against the cold stone wall, letting herself slide down until she sat with her back pressed firmly against the rock. She allowed herself to cry until her tears dried up, and she had resolved to cry no more for any man.

A floor above, the mage Numair Salmalín excused himself from his still dumb-struck companion, and made his way to his study. It was only after the door shut firmly behind him that he allowed himself to sink into a chair and bury his head in his hands. His shoulders shook as he cried for the one woman he would always love, the one woman who must at any cost believe he did not care for her, and the one woman who even then shivered against a cold hard block of stone when he wanted so badly to hold her in his arms.


	3. Solstice

Hey y'all!

Thanks so much for reading + reviewing! I'm gonna try and post a chapter every weekend, but we'll see how that works out... otherwise, sorry for the major cliffhanger, don't kill me!!

-WantonChef

Daine woke to the rolling of thunder outside her window. Storm clouds blotted out the horizon while a crackle of lightning illuminated the small room. Brushing a stray hair from her face, Daine couldn't help noting the irony of the dreary weather as she rolled out of bed. It would be so nice to stay inside today, relax in the warmth of the library, perhaps, but she knew the sadness would not leave her alone no matter how much she willed it. Today she had decided to run some errands in the city, and no amount of water was going to stop her, no matter how frigid it might be.

Dressing, Daine reflected on the past few months. Grief still colored everything that she did, and reminders of her former teacher were implanted in even the smallest of actions. Going over some records yesterday, she had caught herself writing her 5's the same way that she had seen Numair do so often, with the last line at the top only as an afterthought. Last week, she had mourned over a pair of midnight-blue earbobs that he used to fancy. Even the remembrance of their confrontation on the stairs now failed to evoke anything in her but shame and regret. The only difference was that she no longer allowed herself to cry, but often when she woke up in the morning she would feel her cheeks streaked with tears, and know that she had unconsciously broken her own resolution.

Toasty in an extra cloak, Daine stopped by the stables to pick up some grain, then followed the wide avenue from the castle into the city of Corus. Because of the storm, most shops were closed but she knew many of the owners well enough to obtain all that she needed. As a last stop, she rewarded herself with a drink at the Dancing Dove.

The bustling warmth was a comforting change to the storm which still raged outside. Greeting the bartender, she ordered an ale and found a small table in the corner. The drink warmed her inside, and she allowed herself a brief moment to forget the newfound drudgery of her life. If only she had not allowed her entire self to revolve around _him_. Even battling immortals right now would be a nice change, she thought wryly. Soon the glass was empty, and Daine left the warm bar, leaving a few coins on the table. Outside, the rain had not abated, but some mourning doves cowered under the eaves. Taking the grain from her pocket, she allowed them to flutter down and land on her sleeves and shoulders.

Back in the castle, Numair was drawn from his studies by a strong feeling of anxiety. Deep in the core of his power, something was wrong. Hastily, he swept up the mirror which was always by his side and focused all of his thoughts on the one woman who was always foremost in them. Now he concentrated on bringing her image to the glass before him. Soon, her image filled the hand-mirror. As it had so many times over the past few months, just the sight of her brought tears to his eyes and a fist seemed to squeeze tightly at his heart. She was obviously somewhere in Corus, her hood thrown back and her beautiful curls falling freely around her indescribably features. How he needed her, how it hurt him to know she believed he could ever leave her. But the dread in his chest was growing, and the image of Daine remained before him, unaware of any watcher, intent only on the birds which she caressed so gently. What could possibly be wrong? And then he saw it, moving in slow motion, and he shouted out her name, but to no avail, and in just a few horrible seconds, the black fletching of an arrow had sprouted from her left shoulder. A spray of blood and feathers wreathed the grisly flower as more arrows rained down to pelt the birds and the girl they tried to defend. The look on her face made him cry out again, and now the black was joined with the crimson of her own sweet blood, and his most beloved student, his true love, began to topple backward as her eyes glazed over, and still she did not know he watched.

In the marketplace of Corus, a crowd gathered around the body of a young woman. She lay peacefully in a pool of water and blood as the rain continued to fall, and the animals of the city came to cry around her. Joining them was a grown man whose coal-black hair mingled with the falling rain, and whose muddy eyes mirrored the puddles in the street. It was this man who pushed frantically through the growing crowd, and who knelt in the filth beside her. It was he who cradled her head in his lap and gently brushed the damp curls from her face, as he rocked slowly back and forth and sobbed over and over again the name of his young wildmage.


	4. Thaw

Whew, sorry that took so long

Whew, sorry that took so long! Busy month... but anyway, enjoy!!

-WC

Alanna knew that whenever there was a large gathering of animals in Tortall's capital, Daine was involved, whether indirectly or no. But today, oddly enough, they were all outside **her** window. Starlings, doves, even a family of squirrels had alighted on the windowsill of her room in the palace in the pouring rain, and every single one was screeching its own uniquely irritating cry. But it wasn't the animals which made Alanna grab a heavy cloak off the bed and race out into the freezing rain, though they led her way into the city. It was a distinct fear in her belly, a feeling of sorrow and regret which she couldn't place at all.

The sight which greeted her outside the Dancing Dove struck Alanna, in the single instant before she launched into action, as one she would remember for the rest of her life. Almost like a stained-glass window, the pouring rain was contrasted by rays of golden sunlight in the distance. A half-rainbow could be seen between the rooftops of the ally, and there in the mud on the ground a handsome and gracefully lanky man who she knew well cradled in his arms the body of a young woman. A flurry of feathers eddied around their heads, then disappeared in the gutters at their feet. Small feathery bodies littered the street.

And then Alanna was on the ground with them, and the tall man would not let go of the girl he still held. It was all Alanna could do not to stair at the frozen, beautiful face.

"Numair, you need to let go. I'm going to see what I can do, but you need to let go now," he seemed not to hear her, but shifted so that she could take each cold hand in one of her own. She squatted in the dirty street, and concentrated all of her power on the girl in front of her. The one, precious girl who they couldn't possible lose.

She let her magic flow into Daine, and assessed the injuries. What she felt made her gasp aloud. Not only the obvious wounds in her shoulder and thigh, but another arrow had grazed her back, a shallow cut lined her high cheekbone, and an old wound had opened up across her stomach. Without a thought, she summoned her entire Gift, and focused on pouring it into the still body. Slowly, one wound and then another began to knit together. When she got to the arrows, Alanna had to snip off the fletching and then pull them all of the way through the skin and muscle, and was grateful that she had done so when she saw the wicked barbs on each. She continued to pour her magic into Daine, but she could feel it sapping her strength already, and the body of her friend hadn't stirred yet.

Some time later, Alanna dimly felt warm hands lift her from the wet ground. "Daine?" she whispered. But whoever held her did not answer, or at least Alanna passed out before they could.

Numair slept fitfully in a corner of the hospital room where Daine had lain for four days. He had not left in all that time except to speak with a healer, or to relieve himself. He didn't want to miss it if she woke up. When, not if, he corrected himself. Because it wasn't possible that she wouldn't wake up. The Gods wouldn't be that cruel. She couldn't leave this world believing he felt anything for her other than absolute, pure, unending love. Because then life wouldn't be worth living.

Across the room, though her eyes remained closed, Daine was beginning to wake up. First she registered the dull and heavy sorrow that was always with her, and only after did she become aware of a physical pain throughout her entire body. What had **happened** to her? Then it all began to come back - the Dancing Dove, the birds, the arrows. And finally, Numair. She had dreamed about him, she had thought she sensed him near her. But that couldn't possibly be true. What a cruel, beautiful dream it had been.

Daine opened her eyes to raised voices. Conveniently, her head was turned such that she could see the two other people in the room.

"Gods, Numair, how can you even show your face around here?" He sat in a chair in the corner, and his appearance gave her a start. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and he looked older than he ever had.

"Alanna, it's not what you think..." Tortall's Lioness stood over him, her face livid. "You asked her to **marry** you, you went away for a month, and then you said you never wanted to see her again! What am I supposed to think?" She took a breath to speak again, but stopped short when she caught the look on his face. He was staring over her shoulder with a mixture of disbelief, and a wildly hopeful, torturous sadness.

"Daine..." Alanna whipped around to stare at the cot where Daine lay, then broke into a wide, joyful grin.

"Thank the Gods, you're awake." But her delight was cut short when tears began to run down the girl's pale cheeks. "Daine, honey, what's wrong?" Now she shot a glance at Numair behind her, who hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were still fixed on his onetime student as if he couldn't quite believe that she was really there.

"Get him out of here," Daine broke down entirely, and her thin shoulders began to shake. Alanna was alarmed to see a bloody smudge bloom on her shoulder. "Please, Alanna. Just get him out."


	5. Clouds

Yay, out of school at last, so more chappies should be coming fast and furiously now!

Hope you enjoy this one, I will start to expound on what caused Numair to do what he did. In the mean time, bring on the romance!!

WC

As so often in the past few months, Numair sat slumped against a wall with his head in his hands. Only this time, it was not the wall of his bedroom, but they wall outside her infirmary room. The room where his Daine lay, hurt inside and out because of _his_ cowardice.

Leaving for Carthak in the fall, his heart had been heavy knowing that he had caused her pain, especially for such an idiotic, thoughtless reason. But he had also known that when he came back, he could apologize and he could make things right between them. Over those four weeks, his way of thinking had changed dramatically.

_He sat alone in his suite in the imperial palace after a meeting with Kaddar and some foreign emissaries, when a letter was slid under the door. Numair crossed languidly to the door, and swung it open to peer out into the hallway. Nobody was there. Puzzled, he bent to pick up the letter, which he slit open with a thumb and started to read._

_When Numair finished reading, he had to sit on the bed to control himself. The fire in the hearth was already spitting dangerously. He closed his eyes to fight the anger, and only stopped shaking with emotion when he pictured Daine before him. Daine! Who knew if these people would stop at hurting her as well?_

_By the time Numair blew out the candle on his bedside table, dawn was breaking over the city and he had resolved himself to what must be done. When he got home, he would make Daine believe he did not love her at any cost. It would break both their hearts, but it would keep her safe. It had to keep her safe._

Now he reflected on this decision, and wondered what he could possibly have been thinking. He had broken her heart, and then failed even to foresee a brutal attack which could have kept her from him forever. She would never forgive him.

On the other side of the wall, Alanna gently rocked Numair's love in her arms. After a while, Daine had cried herself out, and lay back on her pillows.

"Do you need me to get you anything, hon?" For a lioness, Alanna was surprisingly gentle. But Daine needed to be by herself for a while.

"Alanna, I'm so sorry about that. But I guess I'm a little tired now. Would you mind...?"

"Sure, you just relax. It's good to have you back, Daine," Alanna left, brushing past the man still slumped in the hallway without a word. On her cot, Daine squeezed her eyes shut. Seeing him again had been a shock, and she had overreacted. But the look on his face had shattered any part of her heart that was still whole. Was it possible that she still felt something for him...? Or, even more unlikely, that he felt something for her?

Then a thought came - but was she strong enough? She summoned her resolve. She had been asleep for almost a week. Now was as good a time as any.

"Numair," she called weakly. Outside in the hall, his heart fluttered in his chest. Could she truly be calling for him? He stood and tapped gently on the door, afraid he had misheard.

"Did you want me, sweet?" A soft acknowledgment from inside almost brought tears to his eyes, and he swung the door open with a mixture of emotions swirling uncomfortably in his chest. She lay there on the cot, so serene, so weak, so beautiful. Seeing her that way may his protective instincts flare, and he cursed himself for what he had done to her.

Daine's heart leapt at the sight of him, but the icy lump in her chest that was all those months of pain did not thaw. Instead, she gazed at him for a long moment, and he met her eyes with all the love that he felt. Finally, she broke the silence, "Why did you want my forgiveness, when you don't even love me?" Her words surprised him. Then he saw with a start what he had taken for granted before. She didn't know he still loved her, she still believed what he had told her all that time ago. How had he failed to tell her immediately after she woke up, how had he failed to ease her pain a little? Another foolish mistake was on his shoulders. He came to her, and fell to his knees beside the cot.

"Daine, listen to me. I can never ask you to forgive me, only to know that what I did I believed would keep you from danger. I played into their hands, but only because I could not hide my feelings for you. Daine, when I said I didn't love you, I lied. I have, do, and always will love you. Daine, I'm like a fish that can't live without water, and I can't believe I almost lost you, because you're my ocean." He voice broke now, and he buried his head in her lap to hide the tears which she wouldn't have seen anyway, because her own eyes were overflowing. She knotted her fingers in his long hair as his arms encircled her waist. When she finally spoke, it was not to forgive or to comfort, but simply to state a fact which she knew she could never change.

"I love you too, Numair."


	6. Dusk

As promised, next chappie! I tried to err on the side of length, so hopefully it's up to your standards.  I had also meant to give a full account of the letter Numair got in Carthak, but obviously that didn't work out. Next time! Otherwise, this was one of my favorite chapters. Sorry to spring another problem on Daine so soon, but what must be done, must be done. Enjoy!

WC

The next month was the most emotionally chaotic of Numair's life. Whereas the previous season had been one long lesson in pain and sadness, his new world was filled with guilt for what he had done, joy at Daine's daily recovery, and every feeling in between.

May came to Tortall in a string of long warm days, welcome after the brutal winter, which made Daine restless and anxious to be up from her sickbed. Every waking hour Numair spent at her bedside, and at night he fumbled back to his room only after she made him, or Alanna came to collect him. He was happy enough to sit in a corner of the little bedroom Daine kept in the castle, content just to be in her presence even if she refused to acknowledge him for many days. He hadn't expected her to forgive him, he doubted if he could ever forgive himself. But just to watch her reading in bed, scratching irritably at the scar on her cheek, or feeding some birds on the window ledge made him want to take her in his arms. It was at times like these that he forced himself to remember what he had done, and how his life would have been if that assassin in the city had actually done his job. Then Numair turned away from his student, his love, and focused only on channeling the anger into a plan which would keep her safe, forever.

One time she caught him grinning widely as she stretched to reach a glass of water on the far end of her night-stand, and had to scowl fiercely to keep from smiling back. She would not allow him to think he could do what he did, and then be forgiven as if nothing had happened. The months of hurt and anger and sorrow were too fresh in her mind for that. But she had to admit his presence was calming, and just looking at him created an eddy of feelings within her which she neither could nor wanted to analyze.

In mid May, a castle healer came to help Daine walk for the first time. Numair watched nervously from his chair in the corner, torn between his respect for her space, and his own inherent dismay to see her in pain. Although, he told himself, he had no right to talk about pain to her ever again. The healer made him leave the room while Daine changed into a pair of soft breeches. He returned to find her perched on the edge of the bed, biting her lip in a way he thought was more attractive than she could possibly know. Her dark curls were pulled back at her neck in a horsetail, and a pale green tunic buttoned low at her chest made him blush and look away quickly. When she saw him, she grimaced and returned to the task at hand. She slipped her feet into the old riding boots which felt warm and welcome after her absence, then gripped wrists with the female healer.

Numair watched as, on the count of three, his magelet prepared to stand. At first, all seemed well. Then her back arched violently, her face blanched, and her knees buckled. The healer caught her with difficulty, and barely managed to ease her back onto the bed before Numair was at her side. Sweeping past the unsuspecting woman, he scooped Daine easily into his arms, then rushed from the room. A net of magic cast rapidly over the castle told him Alanna was at the training yards, and a tug on the purple thread that was her essence brought her attention to him. Excusing herself from a sweaty and bewildered Gareth the Younger, Alanna met Numair and his unconventional burden coming through the stables. Carefully, Numair laid the young woman, only just stirring, on a bed of clean hay before he grabbed Alanna by the arm and dragged her to one side. His eyes were shadowed, and his voice when he spoke was low and furious.

"Alanna, I have watched that wound on her back getting worse and worse these past few weeks, even as the rest of her heals, and I have done _nothing_. You told me she would be alright, you told me her recovery would be fast and complete, and now look at her! That is no normal cut, that is magic! Now make her better, Alanna. You know I don't have the Gift for healing that you do. I swear to the Gods, Alanna, just make her better!" His voice broke on the last word, and Alanna was shaken to see a wetness in his eyes. She was still angry at him for all the things he had done, but she could not deny how much he cared for her young friend. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do, Numair."

Alanna went to Daine's side, and resting a cool hand on her forehead, sent her magic into the young woman. She was pleased to find, upon exploration, that the other wounds were healing normally. But the deep gash across Daine's spinal column and upper back pulsed with a poisonous green fire. Worried, Alanna probed deeper, to the core of the wound. An intricate web of magic negated the formation of a scab, while a similar green lacing held the two edges of scored flesh apart. In all her years healing both weapon- and magic-inflicted wounds, this was one of the worst Alanna had ever seen. She withdrew from her Gift-enhanced investigation white and shaking, and turned to face an anxiously onlooking Numair with tears in her eyes. "Numair, I'm so sorry. I can't do anything about this without knowing who the mage is, and how he did it. In the mean time, we can keep her stable, but her condition won't get any better than it already is." Instead of looking lost and scared as Alanna had so feared, Numair did something that was even worse. His face hardened, and his gaze seemed cold enough to stop any Gods-fearing man in his tracks.

"The Gift's green, isn't it?" When Alanna nodded, the black fire that was _his_ Gift began to play threateningly around his fingers.

"Thaqib," he whispered, and strode from the stables.


	7. Shine

Yay, new chappie, I can't believe I got it done so quick... again, this is longer than usual, so hope y'all enjoy. I really liked the scene at the end, am thinking of maybe writing a lemon chapter to stand alone from the story at some point, as it wouldn't work with the current rating. Lemme know if you have any suggestions ... location? Otherwise, hope you like!

WC

_Arram,_ the letter began,

_Perhaps you remember me. I was the class above you at the Imperial Academy, and even though I graduated highest honors, everybody made a fuss of you because you were so young when you graduated. After the Academy, I was quickly recruited to train under the Imperial Spymaster. A few years later, when I took his place, you were still getting noticed, but this time as a threat to the empire. It wasn't until after you disappeared from public life that I gained notice from the emperor himself, and became his closest friend and confidante._

_They said that before you destroyed his trust and threw his patronage in his face, you were like a brother to Ozorne. If that is true, then surely I was like another half of him, so close to his very self that we were always together, and never quarreled or disagreed for the simple fact that our minds were one. Those years with him were the best of my life. But all good comes to an end, and he was forced to send me away when our pure relationship became cause for talk. I was to take five years away from the imperial court, traveling and exploring new lands for the glory of my emperor liege while the scandal died down. An underling would fill my place as spymaster._

_At the end of this journey, I fully expected to return to a Carthak, and more importantly an emperor, unchanged but for a little age. This could not be so. In the fourth year of my travels, rumor came to me of a revolution in my country. Unwilling to believe that my beloved empire could fall at the hands of an upstart girl, I continued on my voyage, but with my ears open for any news. Later word came to me that this girl had been accompanied by none other than you, a turncoat and rival from my academy days. Still I delayed my return, though my heart ached for news of my emperor and our fair city._

_Then one day news came to me in the form of gossip, whispered by fishwives all along the coasts of the Emerald Ocean. My lord of Carthak was dead, at the hands of your student and lover._

_Arram, you cannot know how I hoped that these tales were false, a cruel lie concocted by evil men. I hastened home at once, only to find on the throne of Carthak a young parvenu backed by none other than the Tortallan King. I learned that in Tortall, you and your perverse student paraded in the streets, lauded for bringing an end to the Immortals War, while your hands dripped red with the blood of the greatest Emperor to ever rule Carthak._

_Thus it is with a heavy heart that I inform you, Arram, that I cannot go on living while you still draw breath. I will stop at nothing to see you humiliated and beaten down and repaid in full for what you have cost not only me, but my country and countrymen. Arram, I write only that you may know of the full effects of your actions, that when your world begins to crumble just as mine has, you will know it is because of what you did to His Majesty __Ozorne Muhassin Tasikhe__._

_May the Gods help us all,_

_Thaqib Ladhami_

The Black Robe Mage once called Arram reread the letter, then re-crumpled it and slammed his fists down on the desk which was far too small for him. It shivered under the pressure, then promptly collapsed across his knees. Numair leapt to his feet, uttering what was for him a rare cuss word, and fished in the mess which had been his writing desk only a moment before. Eventually, he pulled out an entire drawer, in the bottom of which he found a sealed packet with about a dozen hard bumps inside. He had spent months working on these, and he only hoped they would protect the ones he loved. The ones who Thaqib would target.

Alanna was startled when Numair burst into Daine's room not long after he had stormed away from them in the stables. She had sent for healers to bring Daine inside, while she had hurried to her own room to pick up some healing supplies. Now she rubbed ointment on the girl's back, where the wound pulsed red and angry. Specially designed by Alanna herself to negate the effects of Gift-wounds, the salve stung nevertheless, and Daine bit her lip against the pain.

Numair came into the room loudly, contrary to his usual graceful movement, and Alanna almost laughed aloud at the look on his face as he came to a sudden stop. She followed his eyes to the bed, where Daine lay on her stomach, her tunic draped across the headboard and her naked back exposed. Numair blushed furiously, then looked up to meet Alanna's half-amused, half-disapproving gaze.

"Daine," he began hesitantly. Alanna left the pot of salve on the bedside table, then stood and excused herself quietly. Numair opened the door for her with a nod of gratitude. "Daine, I... just tell me if I'm overstepping, but I've been working on something that might protect you and other people... close to me from the man who tried to hurt you. But I'm going to need to touch your back. I have to tie a sample of this man's Gift to the amulets. Hopefully, your wound will contain enough threads to bind to the protective spells I've-" he was interrupted by a sigh from the girl on the bed. "Go ahead Numair. Just do what you have to do, then let me sleep."

He nodded, but realizing she couldn't see him said "yes, or course." Awkwardly, he pulled up the chair Alanna had recently vacated, and tore open the packet. Daine turned her head to watch ten or more tiny silver medallions spill out into his hand. Each was flawless, inscribed with magical runes on either side, polished to a deep sheen. Taking one, he returned the rest to their paper envelope, and withdrew into his Gift. Daine was surprised to feel herself flinch at his touch, but he did not seem to notice, and so she put her head back onto the pillow and tried to relax.

Over an hour later, Numair had repeated the same Gift-ritual with each charm, and Daine could tell he was tired. To her surprise, though, he pulled a leather chord from his pocket and threaded it through a hole she had not noticed before in one silver disk. "I've been working on these since I came back. They should protect you and other people Thaqib might target from many forms of attack. Both magical and otherwise. May I put it on you?" Daine nodded, and he clasped it around her naked neck. She did not expect to feel a shiver run up her spine when his hands brushed her skin. Without thinking she caught his hand with hers "Numair, Alanna didn't finish. Would you mind putting the rest of that salve on my back?"

Numair was surprised, but he acquiesced. He uncapped the pot of ointment, and began to apply it to her wound with steady hands. Almost finished, his hand slipped and Daine cried out softly. "Oh, Daine, I..." suddenly, Numair's lips were on the base of her neck. His breath was warm, and her heart began to speed up. He buried face in the hair at her neck, then took her bare shoulders in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "So sorry for everything," he brushed the hair away with a hand which was no longer so steady, and began to kiss his way up her neck. Daine could not move, was painfully conscious of her nakedness, her breasts pressed into the warm cotton bedding. His hands moved down from her shoulders to her sides, her hips, then back again. His lips froze in the hollow of her neck, amazed at what he was doing, dismayed, taking in her scent. He still believed it was wrong, that he had proven not long ago how impossible their relationship was, but Gods, he wanted her.

She reached back with an arm to twine her fingers in his long dark hair, and he felt his breath catch. Again, she acted instinctually, and began to roll onto her back. But Numair's mind won out, and he stopped her with a hand before he should go so far that he would not be able to pull back. His voice, when his spoke, was low and husky. "I'm going to go now. Just wear that medallion, eh, magelet?" He stood abruptly and made to leave, but her soft murmur stopped him. She was sitting up in bed, the sheet clutched to her chest in such a way that he could still make out the outline of her breasts and her - he forced himself to stop, instead finding her face. Her sweet face, framed in soft brown curls. That stubborn chin, the soft, full, red lips... "Yes, Daine?"

"Numair, how can you do that to me, then just walk away? I won't let you shut me out again," her bottom lip quivered a little, and he wanted so badly to take her in his arms again, to feel her soft warm skin under his hands. "If you ever want me to trust you, you have to confide in me. Tell me what happened while you were in Carthak. Tell me who's after me, and why. Tell me why you did what you did, Numair, because I need so badly for you to be honest with me. I need _you_ so badly."The words made his heart soar, and he crossed back to the bed and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then he dropped to his knees to look her in the eye.

"I'm going to leave while you put on clothes, and get someone to deliver these charms to Jon and Thayet and everyone else. And when I come back, I'm going to tell you everything that happened since I left for Carthak. All right? I'm not going to let you slip away ever again." He slid his hand behind her neck, and brought her lips to his in the first real kiss they'd shared since he left all those months ago. "Love you, magelet."


	8. Midsummer

Hey all, sorry for the wait. This is definitely not one of my favorites, and I know it's somewhat fluffy and not very plot-oriented, but it's a necessary bit of filler, I suppose. Don't be angry! Hopefully, the next chappie will be a lemon, but I won't be able to post it under this rating. Therefore, if you want to read it (it _will_ be rated 'M' most definitely... it's a lemon!) put me on author alert to get notified of its release. However, I hope to write it so that if you don't read it, you won't be missing anything necessary, plot-wise... though hopefully it'll be a lot of fun! ;)

WC

As always, Numair was surprised at the extent to which she could affect him so effortlessly. Although, he had to admit, the sight of his magelet with only a sheet for a tunic was enough to turn any man's head - but he was not any man. He was a man some fourteen years older than her, old enough to be her father, even. And he was a man who had broken her heart without just cause. For this he could never forgive himself, but at the same time, he could not stay away from her. She was too precious, too much a part of him, to lose again.

And so Numair would stay with her forever, but he would try not to take advantage of her again. He would try his best to remain the affectionate but stoic teacher she had first known, and he would not give rise to the desires which even now could make him shiver at the thought of her. Her olive skin, the perfect softness of her warm neck, the naturally sweet scent of her hair...

He called for a page, with instructions to deliver the amulets, one each to Jon, Thayet, Alanna, and some ten or so others who Thaquib might target in order to get to Numair. Then he steeled himself, and returned to Daine's room to find her fully clothed in a tunic, breeches, and riding boots. Which was perfectly appropriate, he reproved himself.

Daine couldn't exactly say how she felt after - well, what had happened between them before. But now she was willing to ignore the fact that she had come very close to pushing them both down a road they weren't yet ready to travel, and focus on the important question of why this man she had loved and trusted had broken her heart.

Some time later, Numair fumbled to the end of his story. He looked up only now, anxiously scanning her face for a reaction to his words. She had not interrupted, except to ask him to clarify a statement every now and then. Now she reached out a calloused hand, and placed it over his own. "Numair, thank you for telling me. I understand _why_ you did what you did, even if I question the means. And - it'll take me a while to trust you again," these words made him open his mouth to protest, to agree, anything, but she held up a hand to silence him.

"No, let me finish. You know, you always used to do that when you got excited about a lesson. Cut me off? I'd ask a question, and you'd be so thrilled just to tell me more that I could have been asking about the rain in Tusaine, and I'd get a full history of ocean currents in the Great Inland Sea," they both smiled at this, and Numair's heart bloomed when he saw the light in her eyes. "But what I mean to say is, don't give up on me," now she looked deeply into his eyes, and he was held enthralled. "There may still be some days when I don't want to talk to you, when I can't even look at you. But believe me, Numair. Even in all those months, I don't think my heart really changed deep down. You're the person I think about when I close my eyes, and who I want by my side when I can't figure out a dratted math problem. Remember that, and don't give up on me. I still love you, I will always love you, Numair Salmalín."

At these words, Daine turned her face away to conceal the tears which were beginning to leak from her eyes, against all her efforts to stop them. And against his own best judgement, and the knowledge that a romantic relationship was both wrong and impossible, he took her in his arms and held her tightly until her last tear fell.

When Alanna arrived the next morning to check on Daine, she found her still in Numair's embrace, her face more peaceful than Alanna had seen it for some time. The lioness smiled, and left quietly.

The next month of summer Daine and Numair spent cloistered in her room together, or sometimes in his. Occasionally if Daine felt well enough, they might venture outside, but for the most part the healers advocated bed rest, a suggestion Numair ardently supported to Daine's profound chagrin. They pored studiously over records of magical illnesses in the study, while elsewhere they debated methods to entrap the mage Thaqib Ladhami. Though Daine was strongly against it, Numair knew that he must be confronted, preferably before the amulets were ever tested. By mid-June, a tentative plan had taken shape, and Daine spent her nights dreading how it might go wrong and her days making up excuses to avoid it.

Numair, on the other hand, was anxious to embark upon his mission, and only held back because of Daine. On a bright day in late June, he met her in the corridor between their rooms. She could tell immediately by the look on his face that he had come to tell her he was leaving. She threw her arms around his neck without a thought, and buried her nose in the collar of his tunic, inhaling the warmth that was the man she loved. Numair, in turn, wrapped his hands around her waist, content merely to hold her a little longer. At last, he spoke into her soft curls. "You know I have to go, sweet. I can't live while there's someone out there who wants to take you away from me forever," he felt her nod, but she didn't answer. Numair pulled back to lift her chin gently with a hand.

"Magelet, look at me," she gazed up at him through tear-glazed eyes, and he was struck as always with not only her beauty, but the beautiful person he saw behind those eyes. Softly, he leant down to cover her full lips with his own. Daine brought her hands up to his temples, inhaling the warmth of his kiss, then down to his cheeks, coarse with black bristles. Her eyes were closed as she allowed his hands to roam her body, first from her waist, then up to her shoulders and over her back, ever cautious of the wound on her shoulder blade. He held her close as his tongue cautiously traced her lips, and when she offered no resistance, he allowed it to part them. Now she relished the feeling of his tongue on her teeth, the taste of spices and mint leaves.

Surprising both of them, Daine used her hands on his neck to pull their bodies closer until they were forehead to forehead. Then she gently pulled away to catch her breath. Easing their lips back together, she whispered into his mouth. "Numair, I want you," her words caused him to pull away, unsure of her meaning. "I want you, I don't want you to leave me regretting anything," she took him by the hand and pulled him toward the nearest door.

And Numair did then something he had never meant to do. He looked deep into her eyes and saw the desire there, and felt the same desire reflected in his own, and he _gave in to it_. He grabbed his magelet roughly by the shoulders, and pushed her against the wall of the corridor. His mouth descended over hers, and his hands roamed freely across her stomach and up her sides. Caught only briefly by surprise, Daine responded to his touch with the same fervor. But soon even this amount of contact was not enough, and she ducked under his arm to push open the door. Numair hesitated only for a fraction of a second, then followed his wildmage through the open door, eager to taster her again on his lips...

PS. Somebody give me an idea for the setting, somewhere good! i.e., WHERE DOES THE DOOR LEAD?!


	9. Frost

Hey, I am SO SORRY!! I don't know what got into me, I reached a block, I forgot, I started school. But here it is, the penultimate installment in my Daine/Numair semi-saga. Hope you enjoy, it was so much fun to write. And hope it makes up for the looooooooong break. I hope to get the last chapter out within a week or so. Ok, go to it!

WC

When Daine woke up, the blinding haze of happiness in her mind was almost enough to make her cry. She registered warmth, both physically and inside herself, a pleasure, a satisfaction, and then the arms tight around her body. Eyes still closed, she savored the feeling of a body conformed to her own. She lay on her side, Numair's aura encasing her even as his arms held her tightly against him. Her head was tucked neatly under his chin, and feeling her stir slightly, he brought his lips to her hair.

And then the happiness dimmed, as if a cloud had crossed over her internal sun - he was leaving today. He was leaving her to fight a battle he might not win, to take a trip from which he might never return. All of a sudden, she was crying, shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Numair sat up quickly, unnerved at the sudden change. "Daine, love, what's wrong?" She didn't answer, just tried to calm the shudders wracking her body. She rolled in the bed to face him. Through a film of tears, she saw his outline, the beloved profile. The dark smooth hair, strong forehead and hawkish nose, full lips whose softness was rivaled only by his deep brown eyes. To lose all this... she tilted her face towards his, kissing him hungrily. Their lips stuck for a brief moment as she pulled away. The taste of him, crushed mint, cinnamon. She couldn't help herself leaning back in for more, and he in turn tilted into her touch, rubbing a gentle thumb along the line of her jaw.

The next hour was spent in a replay of the night's passion, though this time with more desperation, as if the Black God stood just outside the door of the room. Eventually, Numair pulled himself from the bed. He rifled through his drawers briefly, though he was determined to take nothing but necessities with him. He gestured to the untouched honey rolls on the little end table, not expecting an answer.

Numair stuffed the last of his provisions in a rucksack, and turned back toward the bed. Daine sat up with the sheets clutched against her chest. Her eyes met his, and he crossed to the bed in three steps. Their lips touched once softly, parted, were drawn back together again. He wiped a tear away from her cheek with a soft thumb, whisperd against her lips "I love you, magelet. Be safe. I love you," and then he was gone and she was left alone, the taste of him lingering cruelly on her lips. She laid down, her head buried in his pillow. She cried herself back to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Numair takes the Great Road South towards the Southern Wall. He doesn't know where he's going exactly, but he expects to meet Thaqib Ladhami before he reaches Persopolis in a few week's time. He knows Thaqib will have been watching Corus, and that he will not be able to pass up an opportunity to attack Numair alone. And so he walks, trudging along the side of the broad and well-travelled road, every step taking him farther away from her. He carries a curl of her hair in a locket around his neck. At night, he dreams of her beside him. He wakes up, and walks again.

In a little under a month, he trudges through the black gates of Persopolis, hair lightened by dust, nose full of the scent of spices as Bazir clamor all around him in their native tongue. A small inn on one side of the main lane into the city promises a drink for his thirsty lips. He goes in, his unshaven appearance drawing looks from other customers, and orders a cool glass of Gods-know-what. Halfway through it, a dark Bazir sits down next to him. "Are you master... ah... Samulin?" he asks in heavily accented Common. Numair nods yes. The Bazir pushes a folded sheet of parchment at him, then stands up quickly and leaves the inn. Numair unfolds the letter.

_Arram,_

_I warned you, did I not? I told you what I planned to do to you, and I acted upon my intentions. But your young lover was saved. She did not die as I intended. Nonetheless, perhaps this was for the best. The Gods have smiled on me, and soon I will have avenged my emperor at last._

_You see, you have failed. I don't know what you expected, leaving her alone like that. Your amulets were ineffective, they served only to direct me to those you most wished to protect. You think I didn't anticipate your pointless efforts? I have found every single person you wished to keep from me, and one by one, they will pay. I began with young Kaddar, of course. He will be dead soon enough. The king and queen of Tortall will not be so easy, but I have found a way to dispose of them as well. The King's Champion has already been taken care of, as has the royal horse mistress, a Ms. Chamtong. The Lords of Naxen and Goldenlake will die soon enough._

_Oh, and the girl? Your student, your perverse human ego boost, Daine Sarrasri? When I last spoke with her, she was quite near to joining her friends. She put up quite the fight, told me you would never submit to me, and that I would be made to regret my actions. I made her regret that, didn't I? Oh, but she didn't make a sound, did she?_

_Hurry back, Master Salmalín, or you may not recognize her when you see her._

_Thaqib_

The glass shattered in Numair's hand as he read the last sentence. With a shout, he threw down the broken shards, stuffed the letter into his tunic, and ran from the inn. As soon as he was out of the door he started to strip off his shoes and rucksack. He jumped into the air, shrinking rapidly into a black-eyed peregrine. And then he was off, mounting into the air with ease, streaking north to Corus. If only it was not too late. If only if he could save the only thing in his life worth living for. Falcon Numair spread his wings to their full width, and pushed on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a stone room deep in the bowels of the Royal Palace, Daine licks a drop of blood from her bruised lip. She can not move, she can barely think over the pain. She closes her eyes as another fleeting wave of consciousness recedes from the wet sands of her mind. "Numair," she whispers before she blacks out again...


End file.
